


Saint of Suicides

by Froakie



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Community: rotg_kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:57:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froakie/pseuds/Froakie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the ROTG Kink Meme. Jack had believers before the events of the movie - just not in Jack 'Frost'. Instead, he becomes Saint Jack, the Saint of Suicides. Tasked with bringing relief to those who need it the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saint of Suicides

**Author's Note:**

> "Inspired by this: http://www.miaminewtimes.com/1997-06-05/news/myths-over-miami 
> 
> A folk religion was invented by the homeless and housing-insecure children of Miami, for those that skipped the article. And the interesting thing is that in this religion, evil is winning. The world is dark and dangerous, filled with monsters barely held back by the good guys.
> 
> The story idea: Pre-movie Jack actually does have believers. It's just that they don't believe in Jack Frost.
> 
> A children's folk religion somehow ended up incorporating Jack Frost into their mythology. Only, being a religion of unsafe and frightened children, it's not really his 'fun' side they were interested in. 
> 
> Jack Frost becomes Jack, saint of suicides, the guardian of those that kill themselves, the promise of a painless end if it gets to be too much. And gradually, due to the nature of religion and legends, he's attributed with other aspects: If you leave Jack oranges he'll make it snow when you ask, say Jack's name three times at midnight and he'll hear whatever you say next, Jack can make people overlook you if you're in danger, Jack will kiss the breath from your lungs if you go out in a snow storm and say you want to die....
> 
> The number of children who believe in the saint is small, but they believe very fervently. Jack doesn't exactly enjoy that identity, but he's very protective of the saint's believers. 
> 
> Post-movie, one of the saint's believers invokes him, and Jack goes to the child's aid. One of the guardians ends up tagging along, and they're very disturbed by what they see.
> 
> +1 Jack as the saint looks and acts different from his normal self.  
> +5 Jack doesn't notice the change, but the guardians do."

Jack doesn't remember it ever feeling like this - a harsh, biting _heat_ that stabs him in the heart, then works its way up to his head; buzzes around and whispers to him until he can barely even _think_. His eyes sting, and soon ice crystals are frozen to the corners of them.

"Jack?"

Toothiana's voice is laced with worry, and the rest of his friends are staring at him in alarm. Jack can't smile because he suddenly can't remember how to. He can't ease their worry, because his thoughts are all focused on how to ease the pain of whoever is calling out to him.

" _Wind_ ," he calls; tone thick with urgency. His first and most faithful companion is quick to burst through the windows, scooping him up into its arms and pulling him out into the icy air. His friends are trying to talk to him. Shouting. Trying to grab him. They are trying to keep him from the child. Suddenly they are an enemy.

In a vicious flurry of snow he's gone, leaving a stunned group of Guardians behind.

-

It's a small fishing village in Newfoundland. It's too early for Jack Frost to appear, but Saint Frost has no trouble navigating through the warmth of a late summer. A child is calling him, and he has to answer their pleas.

When he finds her by the ocean, he keeps his distance and waits until she sees him before moving closer. Her eyes are wide; a dim grey. They are tired eyes that have seen too much. He examines her closely, tilting his head. She is too thin, and the skin around her eyes look bruised. She wears a scarf on her head in place of hair.

Kneeling so that he no longer towers over her, he reaches for her hand but she ignores it in favor of wrapping her arms around him. He doesn't need to ask why she called him here.

She's crying, and Jack lets the tears fall. They sink into the pure white of his robes and spread a silvery frost across the fabric. He speaks only when the last tear falls and she has pulled away from him.

"I won't let you be in pain any longer."

He smiles at her; welcoming and _warm_ , and eyes filled with all of the compassion the world can give. He holds out his hand to her again, and this time she takes it with a smile of her own.

When Jack presses his lips against her in a feather-light kiss he steals her breath and replaces it with relief.

By the time he returns to the North Pole, the girl's body has already been identified by her family and Jack has a lot of explaining to do.

 

\-- -- --

\-- -- --

 

The next time it happens, Jack has a much harder time explaining it away as one of the strange quirks of being a seasonal spirit. After all, why would a winter spirit's instincts overwhelm him as they're flying across Brasil in North's sleigh? Something didn't add up, but eventually the other Guardians accepted that it was his simply body responding to the heat - an overwhelming desire to _get away_ to someplace freezing cold.

( _There was a girl in Paraná that waited until the witching hour to call him, up to her knees in the ocean with nothing but a sliver of the moon to light her way. He remembers freezing a path for her to crawl onto, and they stayed out at sea until the sun rose and she died with a smile on her lips._ )

 

\-- -- --

\-- -- --

 

The fifth time it happens while in the presence of his friends, it's fifteen years after the incident with Pitch, and Jack can't get away fast enough. If he was fully _Jack_ , he would have wondered if there were any signs that gave the Guardians warning that his other self was coming out.

As it is, Jack can only coat himself in a inch-thick layer of ice and frost in an attempt to numb the pain until he's set free. He needs to go. There is a boy in pain. He calls his name.

' _Saint Frost, please_.'

It hurts. It _hurts_. Like lava burning through his veins. Tears fall, but not for himself. The droplets shatter into precious crystals on the floor of the room he's kept in. The woman of feathers ( _Toothiana_ , his mind supplies) lets tears fall as well, and he wants to tell her ' _Don't cry for me_.'

"What's going on, Frostbite?"

The rabbit-man's ( _Bunnymund's_ ) tone is harsh, but Jack can hear the worried undertones. It rings loudly in his ears. The man of sand ( _Sandy_ ) nods from a spot near the rabbit's shoulder. 

The bearded Russian ( _North_ , he thinks) is quiet, and staring at him intently. Jack watches them all with a mixture of confusion and betrayal.

"The _child._ "

It's the first thing he says since he was called. He's surprised that he has managed to form words, and from the looks on the Guardians' faces it must have surprised them, too. ( _Later, Jack will learn that it was because his voice was different. Both younger and older at the same time, and nothing like the lighthearted boy they were used to._ )

"He's _calling_. I have to _go_." He's pleading with these people ( _his family_ ) now. He's scared. The ice on his skin cracks and melts. He shivers. "He needs his ending. He's _calling_."

Jack doesn't know why they don't understand. They're supposed to protect the children. That's what he's trying to do, too.

"I have to go..."

His robes hang limply against his chilled limbs. His fingertips are blue. He can't feel his feet. All there is is pain. _Painpainpain._

Finally, finally, the Russian speaks up. It startles the others. It startles Jack.

"Let him go, Sandy. We have done wrong."

Suddenly there is _relief_ \- relief like he's meant to bring to the little boy whose parents died, and whose uncle threw him to the streets. 

He smiles, and feels the frost crawl back over his skin in intricate patterns. "Soon," he tells them. 

The Russian - North - nods. "Be fast, Saint. We have kept you too long."

Jack doesn't notice the looks of shock the bunny and the feathered woman give the Russian, nor the contemplative look of the man of sand. He's gone in a flash of powdered snow to bring a child their peaceful end and, hopefully, the chance of a new beginning.

 

\-- -- --

\-- -- --

 

Jamie is twenty-four when he first hears the legend of the boy who drowned in a frozen lake. Some say it was suicide, though others say it was to save his sister. It piques his interest, though he doesn't know why - beyond the initial _'what if that had happened to him and Sophie?'_ \- until he realizes that the only lake it could have been was Jack's.

"Why didn't you tell me you died?"

It's a week later, and the first snow of the year arrives with Jamie's closest friend. Jack nearly jumps out of his skin at his question, and Jamie feels proud of himself for sneaking up on him so successfully. It's immediately replaced with guilt once he takes note of the way Jack's posture slackens and his mouth quirks downwards instead of up.

"It... It was never the right time."

Jack's answer is soft, but it's enough. Jamie knows not to pry and so nods. He's just glad that the conversation has been opened. "I'm sorry."

His apology is met with a face full of snow. "Don't be!" The winter sprite laughs, flitting around to leave intricate trails of frost around them. "It was my life or hers, and I don't regret my choice. Not for a second."

"There's rumour that you're a saint," Jamie chuckles, amused by the thought. The reaction to his first question was expected, but Jack's reaction to that most certainly wasn't. He stiffens and seems to almost wilt, landing in front of Jamie with an expression the boy had never seen before.

"I'm not a saint. So please, _don't_ believe it."

_Pleading._

Jack was pleading with him.

Jamie's eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, he understands.

"I believe in Jack Frost," he says. Then, more slowly: "I believe you."

They don't talk any more after that - not about anything more serious than catching up with each other's lives. It's all light-hearted chatter and games until it's past ten and both of them are drowsy from a day of fun. They part ways not long after, saying good-bye until the weekend and Jamie has more time to spare.

Neither of them expected to see each other again later that night.

" _Jamie._ "

A voice wakes him from a nice dream he can no longer remember, confusing him because it's both familiar, yet not.

"Jamie!"

"..Jack?" Jamie glances at the clock by his bed. It's just past three in the morning. He has class at nine, and while his first instinct is to be angry he knows that Jack would never bother him like this unless it was important. "What's wrong?"

"He doesn't need to die. _Please_."

Jack is frantic in a way Jamie has never seen before. His voice is different. His eyes are different... The more Jamie _looks_ , the more differences he sees. Hair that's just a bit longer; softer looking. Eyes more gentle, and a shade or two lighter. His skin is whiter; lips and fingertips tinged blue. 

"Jack, who doesn't...?"

"The boy," he whispers, grabbing Jamie's hand and carefully pulling him out of bed. The spirit's robes billow gently in a non-existent breeze. Jamie shivers. "He called for me, but he's not ready. He doesn't need an _ending_."

"Saint..." _The saint of suicides_. Suddenly Jamie is buzzing with adrenaline. He stands next to his friend and waits to be led. "Where is he?"

Jack nods, smiling a small, gentle smile Jamie has never seen before ( _he's relieved_ , he thinks) and then disappears in a flash, leaving the mortal to panic until he sees a thin trail of frost. Jamie follows it through the hallways of his dorm, down the stairs, and into one of the lesser-used bathrooms in the building.

Soon, the frost gives way to blood and Jamie can hear his heart pounding. Slowly, he follows the trail until he's faced with the slumped over body of a boy. Jack hovers over him, frost glistening on his cheeks and his robes, and seems to be taking extra care not to touch the injured boy. Jamie finds this strange, but doesn't question it. Instead, he rushes to the boy's side - recognizes him as the sixteen year old freshman, Alex.

Jamie had always just assumed the boy was a loner. They were in different classes, and there was nearly a decade between them in age. It never occurred to him that Alex might have been lonely, or bullied. It never occurred to him that he might have been suicidal.

He pulls the boy into a hug, hoping to keep him warm and conscious. His cell phone is out a second later and he calls for an ambulance, explaining the situation to the operator in a voice that sounded steadier than he felt.

"I didn't want you to believe in me." Jack's voice startles him. He had almost forgotten that the spirit was there. "I didn't want you to believe in ... _this._ "

Jamie frowns. "Have you done this all alone all these years?"

"Sometimes there's no other choice, and they call for me to help. Some would leave me oranges and beg for a storm to die in. Some would call for me at midnight, sending me messages of their pain. It was always changing." Jack moves in closer to them, and lets his fingertips hover near Alex's lips. "They would beg for relief, and I would bring it to them."

"...But not today. Why?" Jamie already knows, but he wants to hear it for himself. Jack smiles. They both hear the ambulance outside.

"Today, he didn't need an ending. He needed a _beginning_." 

He disappears in a whirl of snow as the paramedics arrive, leaving Jamie to deal with the aftermath. Somehow, Jamie really can't find it in himself to mind.

 

\-- -- --

\-- -- --

 

"I tried to kill myself after the first few decades."

Jamie stares at Jack in shock. He had known of his friend's three hundred years of solitude since he was twenty, but this... He wasn't expecting this. The winter spirit keeps his posture hunched, making him appear even smaller, and makes sure his eyes are focused on the most interesting spot behind Jamie's ear.

It had been a month since the incident with Alex, and the boy recovered nicely. He and Jamie became friends, and Jack had avoided them both until today. Jamie didn't expect anything different.

"Nobody could see me, or hear me, or touch me. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't even sure I even existed...

"That's when the Saint started coming out," he continues. Out of everyone - even the other Guardians - Jack feels like Jamie deserves an explanation the most. "Whenever a child wanted to die, I was there to help ease their pain. Before I understood what I was there for, I was happy that they could see me..."

Jamie reaches out, pulling him into a hug that's warm in a way he'll never get used to. Jack lets a few tears fall. Now that the boy is older Jack doesn't mind letting the superhero facade go. "I never hated it though, and I still don't. How can I hate it when it gives them such relief?"

Jamie hugs Jack even closer, wanting to make sure his friend knows that he doesn't judge. He'll never judge him for what he does. In his mind Jack is still - and will always be - a hero. More importantly though, he'll always be his friend.

"Jack Frost, you aren't the saint of suicides." He feels Jack stiffen momentarily in his arms, then relax again. "You're the saint of compassion."

When they pull away from each other and Jamie sees the look on the winter spirit's face, he knows that he could never have said anything better.

"Thanks, Jamie."

And he promptly receives a snowball to the face.


End file.
